


Chimera Company

by ReneeoftheStars



Series: Teyla Marin and Gida Tiatkin [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clone Wars, Clone Wars era, krell was a dick long before umbara, teyla doesn't want to go to war, the jedi council sucks sometimes, who can blame her
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-05-24 20:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14962004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReneeoftheStars/pseuds/ReneeoftheStars
Summary: Summoned to the Council Chamber, Jedi Knight Teyla Marin is informed that she is expected to take command of a newly formed company of clone troopers - after the Council already agreed not to involve her in the war.





	1. The Reluctant General

Teyla’s boots clacked against the floor as she strode towards the Council Chamber lift, the noise reverberating off the arching corridor. The steady sound reminded her of the rhythm of the clone troopers as they marched aboard their cruisers. She grimaced; she hated that sound.

She had managed to keep herself and her Padawan out of the conflict, carrying out standard missions to worlds – well, Republic-aligned worlds – that requested aid with internal matters. So far, none of the issues had been in relation to the rapidly-growing conflict, but Teyla worried it was only a matter of time. It had been three months since the Battle of Geonosis, and since then, the Council’s entire focus seemed to be on the war.

Reaching the end of the hallway, she stepped onto the lift and began her ascent. As she shot upwards, she crossed her arms and let out a pent-up breath, steadying herself. She had been summoned to the Council Chamber, but no other details had been forthcoming. As much as she wanted to assume it was instructions for another mission, Teyla doubted it; Master Rancisis had specified that her Padawan was not to attend, which was an unusual request.

The lift came to a halt and she crossed the atrium quickly, coming to a stop just outside the Chamber door. She reached out with the Force, letting the Masters know she had arrived. It was another minute before the doors slid open.

The full Council was in attendance, either in person or by holoprojector. In the center of the room stood Master Pong Krell, one set of arms folded across his chest, the other set placed firmly on his hips. Teyla inclined her head to him as she moved to stand beside him. She knew the Besalisk by reputation only; a no-nonsense Jedi who carried out missions with rigid processes, she understood him to be unwavering once he had determined a course of action. With a sinking feeling, Teyla wondered if they were being sent on a mission together. _Hopefully the Council is wise enough to avoid that particular assignment._

“Master Marin,” Master Windu greeted. “Thank you for joining us on such short notice.”

“Of course, Master.” Teyla bowed. “I came as soon as I concluded my meeting with Senator Daal.”

“The will of the Council comes first,” Krell growled, yellow eyes narrowing at her from his extreme height. “Surely the Senator could have waited.”

 _What a wonderful introduction_. Keeping her voice light and even, she responded, “She asked for my counsel. And as a servant of the Republic, it is my duty to aid its lawmakers to the best of my abilities.”

“Yet as a servant of the Republic, you have declined the responsibility it has given you,” he shot back.

Teyla bit back the first remark that rose on her tongue. Instead, she turned her head slightly to glance up at Krell. “With respect, Master, it is a matter I have already discussed at length with the Council.”

“Unfortunately, Teyla,” Master Rancisis spoke up, “that is why we have summoned you.”

A flash of apprehension set her nerves on end, but she disguised it as a small sigh. “What is it you wish?”

Mace Windu leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. His voice was grim. “We have suffered heavy losses these last few months. Over a dozen clone battalions have been all but decimated by the droid army, and we have lost multiple systems to Separatist occupation or alliance.” He paused. “We are in the process of reassigning Jedi to command the clone units.”

Teyla forced down the dread that welled up in her chest. “I hope the reassignments go well,” she said, recognizing that she sounded obtuse. “If you’d like, I can offer some recommendations of Knights I’ve worked with that I think would be up to the task of assuming a command position.”

Windu released an exasperated sigh. “Teyla.”

She clasped her hands behind her back, all good humor gone. “We agreed, Masters, that I would not be required to partake in the war effort. Especially not from the command center of a clone regiment.”

“I know what we discussed, Master Teyla,” Windu responded. “But the situation has changed. And, as Master Krell pointed out, it is our duty to serve and defend the Republic as it demands. And at the moment, that demand is that we lead the armies of the Republic.”

The Council knew her stance on that matter as well. Teyla realized she was clenching her jaw as she halted herself from reminding Master Windu yet again of their previous discussions.

“And the situation has changed so drastically that you’re going back on your word?”

“Many Jedi have died –”

“And you want me to take my Padawan to the front lines.” She had felt flutters of panic when she had learned that Padawans as young as thirteen were expected to be at their master’s side and serve as commanders. “Is that supposed to encourage me?”

“Insolence!” Krell spat. He rounded on Teyla, who had the bizarre urge to draw her lightsaber. “You lack discipline and obedience. You dare talk back to the Council?”

Maintaining an even voice, Teyla met the Besalisk’s eyes. “I will not gamble with the life of my Padawan. Nor with the lives of the clones.”

“Gamble with the clones, you say?

Teyla turned towards the speaker, glad to break away from Krell’s glowering. Yoda gazed up at her, the ends of his long ears twitching. Teyla spread her hands imploringly. “As we have said before: we are keepers of the peace, not soldiers. I have no military experience. I have only read a handful of documents exploring tactical strategy. I fear –”

“Fear is unacceptable in a Jedi,” Krell broke in, his lip curling.

“Semantics,” she responded curtly. Then she restated, “I am greatly concerned that if I were to be placed in charge of the clones, I would only lead them to their death.”

“And if you did,” Krell rumbled, one hand sweeping the air, “it would be a lesson for you, and an open placement for a new batch of clones.”

Teyla couldn’t help herself; she frowned and turned her full attention to the one beside her. “What?”

“Hard of hearing now, are you?”

“My goal, Master Krell, would be to keep my troopers alive as we work to end the war.”

“The clones have been programmed to carry out our orders, and we must ensure that their instructions are clear. Your goal, Marin, ought to be victory for the Republic, no matter the casualties.”

“I despise that word. There is nothing ‘casual’ about lives lost in war.”

“Semantics,” Krell growled.

“Enough,” Master Windu intervened. “Your opinions are duly noted.” He turned to look at Yoda. “The decision is yours.”

Yoda clasped his hands together and surveyed Teyla and Krell. “In need of generals, two clone units are. Which one each of you will command, I needed to consider. Decided, I have.”

“With respect, Master,” Krell said, his tone anything but respectful, “I don’t see why it would make a difference which ones we took.”

“All the difference, it makes. Make use of your talents, we will.” He pointed a taloned finger at the Besalisk. “Take charge of the 68th battalion, you will. Tomorrow morning, for the Bothan system, you will leave. Briefed en route, you will be. Thank you, Master Krell. May the Force be with you.”

If Krell was displeased with the abrupt dismissal, Teyla couldn’t tell. With a curt bow, the tall humanoid pivoted and strode out of the chamber. Teyla was left standing alone in the center of the room, the Council Members’ eyes trained on her.

Yoda sighed, and Teyla thought he seemed tired. She felt uncertain; perhaps she was being too hard on the Council as a whole. Perhaps they were as disapproving about the war as she was.

“Do I have a choice?” she asked at length. Her gaze flitted around the Chamber. Over her right shoulder, she caught Depa Billaba’s eye; the human woman’s face reflected sympathy.

“Unfortunately, not in this case.” Master Windu settled back in his chair. “We believe that you are uniquely suited to command the second unit.”

Teyla shifted her footing and crossed her arms. “I find that difficult to believe. I am not a great swordsman, and I am not a Master. Surely there are many others much better suited.”

“You lack confidence in your abilities,” Master Plo Koon interjected. “From what I’ve witnessed, you are a fully capable Jedi Knight, and strong in the Force.”

“It is that strength with the Force that makes you the prime candidate for this particular company,” said Depa smoothly.

Teyla looked at her warily. “Why?”

Windu explained. “This company didn’t exist until a few rotations ago. As I said, more than a dozen clone battalions and companies were nearly wiped out during various battles. There are only a handful of survivors from each, but together, there are nearly two hundred clones. Rather than disperse them into existing units, it has been decided that they will form a new company.”

“What makes that so unusual?”

It was Depa who spoke. “The Kaminoans had told us that the clones were essentially indistinguishable from one another. We were led to believe that they could be interchanged and moved to different units without any friction. As we now know, that is not the case.” Depa allowed herself a small smile. “Each clone is as individual as each of us, with a unique presence in the Force. And as with all beings, they form connections with those they live and work with – in this case, the others in their units. During their training and combat, they learn to operate together, as a cohesive unit. And – as with all beings – once they have a way of doing things, it is difficult to break them out of their habits and form new ones.”

Resisting the urge to tap her foot restlessly, Teyla cleared her throat.  “Forgive me, Master, but I still don’t understand why you want me to lead them.”

“Two primary reasons.” Windu flicked his wrists, freeing his hands from his flowing robe. “First, the way you interact with others has not gone unnoticed. For years now, you have been able to convince various beings to cooperate without sacrificing their beliefs or processes. Your successful missions are a testament to that.”

“Different than Master Krell’s, your approach is,” Yoda elaborated. “Find common ground, you do. Demand order, Master Krell does. Believe, I do, that a…less severe command, will unify the clones into a single unit.”

“And in case that fails, you have another ability that can solidify their structure during combat engagements.” Plo Koon steepled his fingers, his long black center claws tapping together lightly.

Teyla stared blankly at the Masters before her. Then it hit her. A shiver ran down her spine and her throat went dry. “My… my battle mediation?”

Windu nodded. “Master Rancisis speaks highly of your growing ability in being able to orchestrate group coordination.”

She turned sharply, looking to the Thisspiasian master seated to her left. “With respect, Master Rancisis, it has been years since you last gauged my abilities.” She had begun taking lessons in battle meditation with the experienced master when she was apprenticed to Sifo-Dyas. After her master had been killed, she had been Rancisis’ Padawan for a brief time, and had afterwards continued on occasion to meditate with him and try to hone her abilities. Since passing the Trials and becoming a Knight, however, she had only met with him once or twice.

His face largely concealed behind masses of white facial hair, he gazed back thoughtfully as he carefully laced his long-nailed fingers together. “Be that as it may, with the progression you showed mere years ago, your skill will serve as a great asset to your troops. When Sifo-Dyas asked me to train you, he had already determined that you had the capability of opening yourself to the Force to such a degree as to sense the minds of every being around you. Being able to link your troops to a single goal in dire circumstances is an important tactic if there is to be cohesion among the clones while under fire, particularly as they adjust to operating under your command.”

Rancisis peered at her, hard. “You are destined to do this, Teyla. Your master understood that you would have the aptitude lead troops into battle. Sifo-Dyas wanted you prepared for this.”

Teyla felt winded. She forced herself to draw a steadying breath, her mind whirling. Distantly, she felt the touch of her Padawan’s mind, felt the concern; Gida sensed the anxiety in Teyla. Centering herself, Teyla sent back a note of reassurance, then steeled her mind to prevent other emotions from seeping into her empathic apprentice’s awareness.

“While I appreciate your belief, Master Rancisis, I don’t know that I can fully live up to your expectations.” Teyla swallowed. “And if you’re wrong, I will have endangered the lives of my troops, and my Padawan.”

“Then we will allow one week,” Rancisis said. “One week for you – and your apprentice – to learn the basis of battle strategy, and to acquaint yourself with the functions of the clone company. We shall have another lesson in battle mediation, to ensure you are as capable as I believe you to be.”

Teyla hesitated. “That…that does not seem to be nearly enough time.”

“The galaxy is at war,” Windu replied gravely. “Time is something that none of us have enough of.”

Her gaze swept the room again. In every eye she met, she found only resolve and finality; even Depa did not look like she would recant. For the first time in this room, Teyla felt trapped.

Feeling like she was encased in durasteel, Teyla bowed. “I’ll obey the will of the Council,” she said, her voice hollow.

“Then settled, it is,” Yoda proclaimed. “Tomorrow, brief you, Master Rancisis will. For tonight, rest. Prepare yourself and young Tiatkin. May the Force be with you.”

Teyla straightened, her muscles rigid as she found herself walking out of the Council Chamber. No sooner had the doors of the lift closed behind her than she crumpled against the side panel, passing a hand over her face and forcing down the tears that threatened to burst from her.

It had been some time since she had been this afraid.


	2. Promoted to Commander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a Padawan learner is a far cry from being a Commander in the army, as is a Jedi Knight to a General. However, it's what is demanded of the Jedi Order as the Clone War continues, and so Gida Tiatkin and her master, Teyla, do what they can to prepare themselves for their new roles in the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for tumblr blog @celebrate-the-clone-wars' writing Wednesday prompt: Promotion

Gida slumped back in the chair and rubbed her eyes. The blue light from the holobook was really starting to irritate her, and with all the small sounds echoing throughout the Archives – the coughs, the humming electricity, the tapping shoes on the tile floor, the whirring droids, the murmurs – she was having a difficult time focusing. _But I have to. I have to learn this._

Across the table, Teyla sat mostly immobile, several datacrons and holobooks spread around her, gold eyes flicking back and forth as she read. The light illuminated her face, making her blue skin look like it was glowing. She seemed serene as she pored over the information. But after being apprenticed to Teyla for three years, Gida recognized the line between her eyes and the downward turn of her lips. Her Master was anything but serene.

Turning back to her own holobook, Gida fiddled with the silka beads hanging from the disk on her ear cone as she tried to keep reading about siege tactics favored by Mandalorians of the Old Republic. Madame Jocasta Nu had recommended the book, assuring Gida that it contained several useful strategies and a basis of warfare that she would need to know when she took command of the clone battalion.

Her stomach knotted.

_A Commander. Me. A Commander in charge of leading two hundred men into battle. Two hundred ten-year olds, all hastily grown just so they could go to war._

The very thought was almost too absurd to consider.

The Clone Wars, as the Holonet had begun calling it, had been spiraling into a far-flung, vicious conflict for three months now, taking up the energy and resources of most of the Jedi Order. Teyla had tried everything to keep the two of them out of it all, and Gida appreciated the effort. But it hadn't been enough.

When Teyla had returned from the Council Chamber, she had been _so_ upset. Fear, sorrow, frustration, all spilled from her like tears; she couldn't hide it, and Gida couldn't help but feel it. Teyla had merely looked at her, her expression momentarily lost and uncertain, and Gida had burst into tears herself, so overwhelmed by her Master's emotions. They'd had a long meditation session then, trying to center themselves, for Teyla to regain control of her thoughts, and for Gida to parse out the emotions swirling within her. Since then, Teyla had apologized for her lack of control, and had taken extra care to shield her emotional output, which Gida was thankful for.

They had been given a week – _a week –_ to familiarize themselves with war and the troops before their first mission. They'd spent nearly four days in the Archives, reading through every piece of literature Jocasta Nu could find for them, and watching recordings of military campaigns and leaders throughout the galaxy. It had seemed to pass in a blur of data, but Gida thought – hoped – that a good portion of it had stuck in her mind.

For the most part, they had made peace with what the Council expected of them. After all, most other Jedi had already been involved in the war, had already gone to battle with the clones. It was their duty.

Gida's friends thought it was exciting. Several of them had already been involved in a battle, and had returned to the Temple with action-packed stories. What better way, they said, to serve the Republic than to go to war for it? Gida could think of a few other ways, but it seemed no one but Teyla wanted to hear them.

As far as her friends were concerned, it was as though they'd been raised to the rank of Jedi Knight. Among the clones, Padawans commanded the same level of authority and respect as a Knight or Master. The clones called them Commanders, and followed their orders without question; it was the same sort of control they had all seen their Masters exhibit on countless missions.

It was a promotion that made Gida feel sick.

And Teyla... Gida glanced up at her Master. She had moved onto another datacron. Gida wondered how much information she was actually retaining.

The clones assigned to them would call Teyla “General”. Gida could sense her Master's revulsion every time it was brought up. Such an overtly military term, an aggressive, prominent reminder that the Jedi's duty as peacekeepers had been put on hold.

Teyla – probably feeling Gida's eyes on her – looked up from her reading and smiled. “Learning much?”

Gida gave a halfhearted shrug as she set the holobook down. “There's a lot of information.”

“And they're not exactly page-turners.”

That got her to grin. “Not really.” Still feeling tense, she spun in the chair, feeling the comforting weight of her lekku trailing after her. “Master, how are we going to remember all this?”

“When the time comes, I expect the information will come to mind. Part of the reason for gathering such a wide scope of tactics is so we can be flexible in our approach, depending on the situations that arise.”

Gida watched the arched ceiling spin above her. “And the other part?”

“I don't yet know what kind of battle strategy the leaders of our particular clone regiment will have. I don't know what they were taught on Kamino, or what they have learned these past three months.”

The leaders of the clone regiment... “How does the hierarchy work, exactly?”

“From what I've been told, it will be squads of nine or so soldiers led by lieutenants, who answer to a captain, who will in turn answer to us.” Teyla paused. “The captain will make in-the-moment decisions if either of us is unreachable. You will hold the second-highest command position. I will have final say to any decisions pertaining to the troops and our missions.”

Once her momentum fizzled out, Gida let herself come to a stop. “That's a very clear-cut chain of command.” It made her uneasy, though she couldn't quite articulate why...

Teyla seemed to understand. “In military operations, it has to be,” she mused. She didn't sound enthusiastic. “If too many people try to give orders, an entire battalion can be reduced to individuals fighting alone, instead of as a unit.”

“Which is where your Battle Meditation comes in,” Gida pointed out.

Teyla took a moment to respond. “So the Council says. However, I fully intend to have the clone captain involved in all troop and tactical decisions. He knows far better than I do what his men are capable of.”

They sat in silence, and even though they were both looking at their holobooks, Gida knew neither of them were reading. What history book would tell her how to protect the troops from an ambush, or how she should direct them if they were surrounded? Where could she find out how to interact with people who were six years younger than her, yet had the mentalities of people ten years older? Where was the guide that explained how to block out the emotions of scores of people screaming and dying on the battlefield?

How in the galaxy was she supposed to lead these people into battle knowing that many of them would die?

How could she possibly accept the title of “Commander”?

The knot in her stomach moved up to her throat. Gida looked up at her Master. “This is too much,” she whispered. “I'm not ready to take on this level of responsibility. I can't...”

Teyla leaned over and covered Gida's hand with her own. “I understand, Padawan.”

Gida looked away, ashamed as tears formed in her eyes. “I can't.”

“Maybe. But _we_ can.” Teyla squeezed her hand. “You are not in this alone, Gida. Responsibility of these troopers will fall to me. I will do everything I can to prevent you from needing to make any final decisions – that should not be your burden.”

“It shouldn't be yours, either,” Gida blurted. She glanced up in time to see a pained look cross her Master's face.

“Perhaps not. But it is. And as general –“ she winced, “– I will manage it however I can.”

Gida nodded absently. “Jedi Generals,” she mused.

“An oxymoron if I've ever heard one,” Teyla agreed.

Teyla's comlink beeped. Patting Gida's hand once more, Teyla withdrew, unclipping the device from her belt. She keyed it on. “This is Teyla Marin.”

“Master Marin,” Master Windu's voice responded. “The last of the arrangements have been finalized, and your troops are ready for inspection.”

Gida and Teyla exchanged a look.

“What's your location?”

“The Archives, Master.”

“Meet me in the courtyard in ten minutes. I will accompany you.”

“Yes, Master.”

Exhaling, Teyla stowed away her comlink. Collecting the datacrons and holobooks, she signaled a passing droid.

Gida watched Teyla instruct the droid to keep the information set aside for them, anxiety beginning to fill her. She shut her eyes and focused on her breathing. She acknowledged her uncertainties, her fears, her apprehension. She recognized them all, and let them go. She could only do what was in her power. _And that has to be enough_.

She opened her eyes to find Teyla rising. Her expression seemed calmer, more focused. “Come, Gida. It's time to meet the troopers.”

 


End file.
